If the argument is that Caroline actually said that her father went round to pester "one of his mates" about the Diary rather than "Tony" then this makes the question of whether or not Caroline knew that Tony was dead redundant.

As to that, I can see no reasonable basis for saying that Caroline did not know in March 1992 that her father's best friend had died in the previous summer. But if the new claim is that Caroline only remembered him going round to see one of his mates, then clearly this argument has been abandoned!

Caz Morris's account of Murphy polishing out scratches is actually extremely damning to the legitimacy of the watch. Under microscopic examination Turgoose noted that the superficial scratches on top of the so-called 'Maybrick' scratches show no sign of having been buffed or polished. Ergo, all those strange and unexplained superficial scratches inside the back cover were made in the short time between when Murphy sold the watch to Johnson and Johnson "accidently" discovered the 'Maybrick' scratches in front of a live audience. In other words, it suggests that someone doctored the watch.

Some good posts on this topic were made by John Hacker and Chris Philips and can still be found in the archives.

Caz--yes. Anne "willingly" turned over the red diary after she was confronted about it.

Oh yes, of course I’m complicating things. Mike’s reaction to the Dodd/Feldman proposal of “Tell him to F*ck off. The diary never came from the house” was far too complicated and should have been simplified by Mike working out a cross-examination question for Eddie Lyons as if he was a professional barrister. The message that Mike was asking Feldman to pass on was, in any case, to Paul Dodd, in response to his offer, not to Eddie Lyons and that message alone made any further cross-examination questions for Eddie redundant.

Feldman claims he asked Mike: "Can I tell him [Paul Dodd] he has a deal?"

Still no explanation from David, for why - within 24 hours of Mike's simple but effective reply - he had found out where Eddie lived [and there's no evidence that Feldman knew the address or gave it to Mike - why would he?] and chosen to complicate things himself by going round there to introduce himself as the diary's owner, accuse Eddie of lying and saying he would never do a deal [with Paul Dodd].

It's bizarre if he didn't want to "do a deal" with Dodd, didn't have to "do a deal" with Dodd, and didn't need to threaten some complete stranger who could not possibly have found the diary or even seen it. Any 'confession' on that basis, before the diary had even been published, would have been worth precisely nothing, to Dodd, to Eddie, to Feldman, or to anyone else. Mike should have had nothing to worry about on that score, if he knew the diary had never been near that house. Yet he was apparently more worried about what Eddie could do to scupper everything, than he was about the risk of a prison sentence for forgery when Shirley's book came out!

Love,

Caz
X

__________________"Comedy is simply a funny way of being serious." Peter Ustinov

We are told (again) that Mike threatened Eddie with solicitors although no evidence has ever been produced of this. Perhaps the world’s leading expert on the subject was in Eddie’s house at the time. What Feldman said about the meeting was this: “Within twenty-four hours Mike Barrett had knocked on the door of the said electrician; he accused him of lying and told him he would never do a deal.” That’s it. Where do the solicitors come from?

Where do you think?

Maybe Mike and Eddie were both lying - for presumably different reasons - and this encounter never took place.

Love,

Caz
X

__________________"Comedy is simply a funny way of being serious." Peter Ustinov

“the whole thing collapses if Feldy couldn't have told Mike where he could find Eddie”. Is this some kind of joke? It was beyond the wit of Mike, was it, to ask someone in the Saddle where “Fat Eddie” lived? And did they not have telephone directories in Liverpool in the 1990s?

How do you know Mike knew Feldy's loose-lipped electrician was called "Fat Eddie"?

How do you know Mike knew Feldy's loose-lipped electrician lived anywhere near the Saddle?

How do you know Feldy's loose-lipped electrician was even a regular there, whose name and address would be known?

How do you know Feldy's loose-lipped electrician could have been found in the telephone directory alongside the Fountains Road address, where his girlfriend was living at the time, even if Mike knew what "Fat Eddie's" surname was? Did he know the girlfriend's surname too?

Quote:

Here’s where the whole thing really does collapse with one simple question. How is it that anyone knows that Mike went round to speak to Eddie?

Eddie knows. It's one thing he doesn't deny.

Quote:

Think about it. If the Battlecrease provenance story is true, Mike and Eddie are supposed to have been involved in a conspiracy. They must have met in secret at least once for the Diary to have changed hands and, the way we are told the story, it is must have been a good two or three times more than that. So they were perfectly capable of holding secret meetings. Why on earth would one or both of them have felt the need to tell Feldman or Smith or anyone else that Mike went round to Eddie’s for a confrontation? For that information could only have come from one or both of those two individuals. If they had had a secret deal surely the confrontation would have been in secret. If Mike got the Diary from Eddie it simply makes no sense for us to know about the existence of this meeting.

Because they were both inclined to be loose lipped? Feldman thought Eddie was willing to 'confess' for the right price, so when Mike made it very clear to Eddie what he'd do if he obliged, that would have been Eddie's excuse not to go ahead if Feldman had pressed him. "That Mike's been throwing his weight around so sorry and all that, but the confession's off". Equally, by telling Feldman about the confrontation, Mike would have reinforced the fact that there would be no deal and no confession, not on his watch. Feldman was not a man to be put off easily, once he had a bee in his bonnet, but Mike & The Electricians sorted it between them.

We know they were both happy enough to meet up with Robert Smith in the Saddle towards the end of June 1993, where Eddie was happy enough to tell Robert he had found "a book" under some floorboards at Battlecrease, and Mike was happy enough to let him.

What sense does any of that make, if the electrician rumours were utterly baseless, and therefore didn't need Eddie or Mike or anyone else to try and explain them away to the man who would be publishing Shirley and Mike's book about a diary given to him in 1991 by a Saddle regular who since died?

Love,

Caz
X

__________________"Comedy is simply a funny way of being serious." Peter Ustinov

Caz Morris's account of Murphy polishing out scratches is actually extremely damning to the legitimacy of the watch. Under microscopic examination Turgoose noted that the superficial scratches on top of the so-called 'Maybrick' scratches show no sign of having been buffed or polished. Ergo, all those strange and unexplained superficial scratches inside the back cover were made in the short time between when Murphy sold the watch to Johnson and Johnson "accidently" discovered the 'Maybrick' scratches in front of a live audience. In other words, it suggests that someone doctored the watch.

I can't help what Murphy said himself about it, rj. But I can't help Dr Wild's findings either, which indicated that the engraving was made before the watch surface was polished, whenever that was. He accepted that it had been polished, which implies that no sign of it doesn't necessarily mean it wasn't done. If, as Murphy claimed, his jeweller's rouge had no effect on the scratch marks, maybe it's not so surprising if it left no effect on the surface either. Was it too gentle to make any difference? It's not my area of expertise, so I hope someone with some real knowledge and objectivity can advise on this point.

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Caz--yes. Anne "willingly" turned over the red diary after she was confronted about it.

You know she was 'confronted about it' how? Who brought up the subject first? I don't have the answer to hand so I'd be genuinely interested. Did Keith ask Anne flat out if Mike had given her such an item? Or were they talking about something else when she remembered it and went to fetch it?

Not that it matters either way really. She kept it for some reason, and she knew Mike had it previously and was still heavily into his 'confession' period, so she was presumably prepared for when she would be asked about it, and had her answer ready - whether she knew she was lying or Mike really had told her he was curious to know what a Victorian diary looked like.

Love,

Caz
X

__________________"Comedy is simply a funny way of being serious." Peter Ustinov

Did we ever get an explanation as to why Anne had the red diary in her possession in 1995? i.e. why did she ask Mike for it?

We normally have some kind of long winded and convoluted explanation offered for everything so I assume this should be no exception.

Only Anne would know that, surely?

But she did know Mike was trying to find evidence to 'prove' he wrote the diary, so if she remembered paying for the little red diary by cheque a month or so after the Maybrick diary had been seen in London, and knew nothing about what he had actually asked for or when it had arrived, she may have thought it was harmless as evidence of anything, but safer in her hands than his. Did she know Mike had made his initial enquiry for it around the same time he first called Doreen? Did she know it had arrived towards the end of March, before anyone had seen the guardbook?

Love,

Caz
X

__________________"Comedy is simply a funny way of being serious." Peter Ustinov

I'm not sure how that squares with "if Michael can succeed in rhyming verse then I can do better, a great deal better", Caz, but whilst the hoaxer(s) might have had "Sir Jim" wishing that his poems were better, that doesn't indicate any awareness, whether on the part of the hoaxer or Sir Jim, of the poor quality of their prose (grammar and spelling included).

Hi Gareth,

But you do see that it would be significant if the creator of "Sir Jim" was pulling the strings regarding the dodgy doggerel, and having him ponder the question of how to become good at it? None of it makes sense if the author was putting their own best poetical goods in the shop window from start to finish. And if they were doing pretty much the opposite, and endowing poor "Sir Jim" with the rhyming talents of a six year-old, to comic effect, the argument against the poor quality of the prose being similarly employed goes out of the window.

You didn't quote from the beginning anyway, following the second attempt at verse, which resulted in all four lines of it being crossed out. "Sir Jim" goes on to write:

'two farthings,
two pills
the whores M
rings

Think

It shall come, if Michael can succeed in rhyming verse then I can do better, a great deel [sic] better he shall not outdo me. Think you fool, think.'

Later he writes:

'I cannot think of another word to accompany Jim. I like my words to rhyme damn it.'

Then towards the end he damns Michael again 'for being so clever the art of verse is far from simple. I curse him so'.

Finally he comes out with:

'tis love that spurned me so,
tis love that does destroy
tis love that I yearn for
tis love that she spurned
tis love that will finish me
tis love that I regret.'

Hey, how did "Sir Jim" suddenly mature from writing like a six year-old with his previous offering:

'take the eyes,
take the head,
leave them all for dead'

to coming up with something a teenager might have struggled with?

Love,

Caz
X

__________________"Comedy is simply a funny way of being serious." Peter Ustinov

'tis love that spurned me so,
tis love that does destroy
tis love that I yearn for
tis love that she spurned
tis love that will finish me
tis love that I regret.'

It's not particularly impressive, though. He uses "spurned" twice, thereby exhibiting the same paucity of vocabulary evident elsewhere in the diary. There's a manifestation of the diarist's familiar "superflous did" (or "does" in this case), perhaps caused by a desire to have the syllables match - a desire seemingly abandoned after line 3. This is all the sadder because there wouldn't have been a problem with the syllables if a spurious "so" hadn't been tacked onto the end of line 1 - another of the diarist's tics ("The whore shall suffer more than she has ever done so"; "My hands feel colder than they have ever done so", etc).

Starting each line with the same words is quite effective, but it's a familiar, ancient device (cf. Ecclesiastes, The Beatitudes and, more strikingly, Corinthians), and easy to pull off.

About the only half-decent thing about the verse is the half-rhyme between "yearn" and "spurned". Having said that, its effect is rather diluted by the fact that the line before "spurned" is actually "yearn for" - perhaps written thus so that the syllables in line 3 matched those in lines 1&2. "tis love for which I yearned / tis love that she spurned" would have worked better, if the writer had given up their fetish for matching syllables sooner. Edit: Come to think of it, a slightly spurious "so" would have helped here ("tis love for which I yearned / tis love that she so spurned") but, irony of ironies, the writer missed his chance!

Despite the apparent cleverness of this little rhyme, it's arguably only a notch or two up from the clunky doggerel we see throughout the diary.